The Woman I Met (The Man's Companion)

I didn't see my boogeyman,
Or the Shadowman,
For long and quite a while,
But my next adventure,
The Woman,
And her Face,
Were equally quite disturbing.

"Its Not the Man,
But the mask he wears,"
My mother used to say,
Still does infact, As I see her,
Day to Day,
And nothing fits That Saying more,
Than this woman, I HAD to meet,
As Unfortunate events go.

Clothed in Gray and White And Pink,
The flowers rot behind her,
The stench that wafts in front of her equally or more
Appaling.
As with Shadow and Boogey, too,
This woman had 'it' there,
A feeling,
Quite Sickening,
And in a way,
Much worse than Fear.

She was looking for someone,
A straight jet face,
No Features to betray emotion.
She described In a way,
The Wraith of Fear,
In A sweet voice,
That Almost  broke the golem.

I figured it out,
At least I think,
NO words to describe the feeling,
Hate, Envy, Ambition,
Nothing comes close to her.

A Murderous rage comes over me,
A tide of green and black.
I struggle to control myself,
I fear I might really snap her neck.

I thought she might be bringing forth wrath,
But she was no personification,
Then I realized, Why her essence hurt,
She was the worst.
In Us.

ISA